


We Are the Crazy Ones

by minutiae



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, For Heathen the Mad Glorious Bastard, Gen, Gift Fic, Oh my god there was only one contract, Original Character(s), Viper School (The Witcher), Witcher Contracts, Zeren the Viper (Witcher OC), and flirt, because they're both disasters, but it was two royal wyverns, in which they ogle each other, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29318667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minutiae/pseuds/minutiae
Summary: In which Lambert meets Zeren, a hunt doesn't go that great, but hey. At least the view is great?Happy birthday, my dear. All my love <3(Edit: apparently copy pasted the wrong bit, I'm such a nerd.)Meet Zeren- HeathenAlchemist's Viper OC witcher that they kindly let me play with. Who better to bounce him off of then my very favorite badger? If you love him, go check out Cold as Desert Starlight. I love him dearly, and I can't wait for you to love him, too.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 26
Collections: Notes From The Path





	We Are the Crazy Ones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeathenAlchemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeathenAlchemist/gifts).



Lambert glared at the empty noticeboard. A vendor in the previous town had told him of a contract down the road. The small, slimy looking vendor had skipped over the markets in this tiny farming town thanks to the noticeboard seeking a witcher. A dragon, it had proclaimed, had been devastating the local livestock.  
  
It was also devastating the local economy. This was just a small town on a regular trade route on the way south down through Metinna. Lambert was already much farther south than he usually tended to go, but the weather had been nice and the contracts plentiful.  
  
He’d enjoyed the change in scenery. The beer was better here, at least.  
  
Good beer wasn’t going to make up for the fact that he went out of his way for what was likely an easy contract. People called anything a dragon that was even the slightest reptilian, and a town on trade route would have full coffers.  
  
All this for a contract he was too late to pull.  
  
He stood, arms crossed in the middle of town, trying to decide if he’d move on, or see if the wine was as sweet as the suggested.  
  
His decision was made for him as a tall witcher ambled out of the house across the way. He was big, and his body language was loose and friendly, the alderman smiling up at him. Lambert listened as he spoke, the undercurrent of amusement in the big man’s voice as he coaxed details of the dragon out.  
  
The more the alderman recounted the stories, the witcher leaned in, stepping back, coaxing the man to follow him out into the street. Soon, they had a small gathering, gasping over the terror of the skies.  
  
Lambert snorted at the exaggeration, and bright golden eyes flicked to him immediately. His gaze was sharp and assessing, but Lambert just raised his eyebrows and lifted his chin.  
  
“Ah, but master alderman - you have nothing to fear. My associate has arrived. Late, but here nonetheless.” The mocking was clear in his words, the smirk tilting on his face as he turned the crowd’s attention towards Lambert.  
  
The stranger stood tall, pale stubble contrasted by the deep black of the fabric wound around his face and neck. The long knives he wore and the medallion on his chest made Lambert’s eyes narrow.  
  
_Viper_ .  
  
Fuck.  
  
He didn’t need nor want the trouble, but the alderman was already waddling over, his greasy fingers plucking at the elbow of Lambert’s sleeve.  
  
The man whined, pleading about the dragons that infested the fields south of the town, promising pay and a room in the inn for them to recover afterward.  
  
Lambert didn’t break eye contact with the stranger before him as he agreed. The price agreed per witcher, of course, half to be paid up front.  
  
The fat, sticky man waved, and his equally round wife scurried forward, pressing a coin purse into the hands of the Viper, who smiled down at her. It was a sharp smile, full of promise and danger, and the woman squeaked, flushed, and fled back into the house.

With a snort, the Viper dangled the bag before Lambert, before spreading his arms and stepping backwards, the small crowd parting, scrambling out of his way. He spun lightly on one foot, one hand out, shaking the bag before tossing it in the air, catching it, and tucking it away in a pocket.  
  
Fucking obnoxious.  
  
But he followed.  
  
And he absolutely did not look at the ass of the man swaggering in front of him as he did.  
  


  
  
  


Of course, the Viper didn’t go to the inn. Or the promising wine cellar. He slipped into the tavern, golden eyes glittering over his shoulder as he ducked into the room, throwing himself into a corner.  
  
Lambert wasn’t amused, but the serving girl nearly crashed into him hurrying to the table. She perched on the table, tittering, and the Viper sat forward, pressing coins into her hand as she blushed and scampered away.  
  
“Associate?” Lambert didn’t sit, looking down on the lax, sprawled out form of the man before him. He was slouched back in his chair, one leg kicked out, the other tucked around the leg of the chair. One elbow was propped casually on the table, but fingers hung close to the hilt of his fangs.  
  
This display was purely for the comfort of the tavern, and Lambert hadn’t yet decided if this was a farce he’d partake in. The girl returned with two large ales, but before she could resume her flirtations she caught Lambert’s face, and fled.  
  
“You could make an effort to not scare the locals.”  
  
“I’m waiting for answers.”  
  
“You plan on standing there, grousing like a damn fool over free ale? Or shall we talk?”  
  
He shifted, slightly, the tenseness leaving his frame as Lambert dropped his arms, dragging a chair over. He swung a leg over, and leaned over the back of the chair before sniffing the ale before him. He’d had worse, but it smelled good. It wasn’t until after he took a sip that the Viper moved to taste his own.  
  
The tension was palpable, both fully aware the other was not as relaxed, but it was clear Lambert was the more unsettled of the two. He watched as the other studied the crowd, the deep dark around his eyes settling the bright gold sparkling further. It distracted, but only slightly, from the scar above his right eye. It wasn’t until one unimpressed eyebrow was raised in his direction could he see the smaller scar on the other side of his jaw. Overall, a pretty face to look at.  
  
Pretty faces could get you killed. “So why am I here. You already got double the payment promised.”  
  
“I could, theoretically, go handle this myself. But I’m low on supplies and you didn’t immediately leave when you saw me, so you clearly need this contract too. The pay’s good for once.”  
  
_“Low on supplies.”_ A witcher out of potions was generally a dead one. There were too many dangers on the Path to be out of at the very minimum, Swallow. Lambert mentally counted the small red vials in his pack. Three should do. Ideally.   
  
“Well,” the stranger plucked a coin out of the bag, and danced it across his fingers idly. “We could flip a coin. One of us could try for it alone. Or. You can stop being a paranoid jackass and work with me, and I’ll split the proceeds.”  
  
Geralt would have his head. His clashes with Letho were well known, now, and the two twice grassed morons never knew how to keep their noses out of anyone’s business. Eskel can and did befriend anyone who could look past his scars. Vesemir had many opinions on everything, and Lambert did his best to ignore all of them.  
  
So he did exactly the opposite of what every person one would think he’d ask for advice would say do to.  
  
“Fuck. Why not. Gonna tell me your name, or shall I just refer to you as Blonde Asshole?”  
  
The smile was dangerous and promising and Lambert was suddenly quite sure that his new friend was considering far more than just the upcoming contract when he leaned forward. “Zeren.”  
  
Lambert waited for the mockery, the declaration that he was known. With so few wolves, and Lambert’s penchant for sarcasm, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been placed by name with as little an introduction as someone declaring ‘Oh! The white wolf’s asshole brother!’ It was exhausting.  
  
Zeren just waited, watching.  
  
“Lambert.”  
  
The only response was a dip of his chin, the tilt of the ale in a nod to him.  
  
When the food was brought out they both tore in greedily, Zeren leaning in to listen to the young girl before sending her away again. Zeren briefed Lambert on the information he’d gotten from the alderman and his wife- mostly a detailed listing of the livestock loss, the panicked whispers of passing caravans who heard the screams.  
  
“Probably just a forktail. Maybe even a mated pair.”  
  
Zeren nodded slowly. “Stronger with signs or sword?”  
  
“I’m not Eskel, if that’s what you’re asking.”  
  
“I asked what I asked. Not having you at my back with shitty sign work.”  
  
Lambert’s eyes narrowed as he studied the distinctly unimpressed face before him. Zeren was slightly bigger than him, but not the imposing wall of muscle as Eskel. Nearly as good a bitchy, judgemental expression, so Lambert let it pass. Zeren wasn’t rising to the goading.  
  
“I’d say equally good, but igni’s likely my best controlled sign. Handy for the bombs.”  
  
Zeren sat forward eagerly.  
  
“You’ve my attention.”  
  
“Of course I do. Who the fuck wants to get their ass bitten off by some bitchy monster when you can blow its legs off from a distance?”  
  
Zeren’s laughter rolled through the tavern, catching the attention of other customers.  
  
“I see. Alright. You’re likely better with the signs, then. Let’s go find the nest.”  
  
It didn’t take long to find, with frightened townsfolk pointing to far ends of the fields, the forested mountain looming over the valley. A cave was only visible by how the surrounding trees were torn down and damaged. The pair stood well back, watching and listening. Waiting. Lambert dug through his pack and handed over a potion.  
  
Zeren just inspected it and shoved it in a pocket. Not the time to question taking untrusted potions, especially since all he had left was half of one Golden Oriole.  
  
Zeren stuffed his pack in a tree, mostly out of habit. The locals were spooked but greed rarely waited for safety to rear its head. Lambert nodded, and passed his own up, but just as Zeren hooked it over a branch a deafening roar reverberated over the landscape. He stood on the branch, a dark shadow against the bright green of the leaves.  
  
Lambert was tense on the ground, watching the distance as one enormous winged beast leapt from the cave, to circle the valley.  
  
“ _Fuck.”_ _  
_ _  
_ Zeren didn’t move, watching, until Lambert tossed an acorn up. “Let’s go, Zeren. He’s pissed, can probably goad him into an attack.” Waggling one bomb from the small bag slung over his shoulder, Zeren glanced down.  
  
“How many of those do you have.”  
  
Lambert glanced down at his bag. “Three. My bombs are good, Viper -”  
  
“There’s _two._ ”  
  
“ _Fuck._ ” Lambert slipped it back in his bag. A mated pair was dangerous, though it was likely too early in the year for a full nest. He didn’t rely on luck. One of them would have to climb up to that nest to burn it- thankfully it wasn’t terribly high up. This was going to be a fucking long afternoon.  
  
They made it to the center of the field, back to back, watching the big beast circle them from the air.  
  
“ _Probably just a forktail.”_ _  
_ _  
_ “Fuck off, you were going to try for this by yourself.”  
  
They didn’t have long to wait, the enormous wyvern diving to snatch at them, heedless of the blast of igni Lambert sent after it. Neither one bothered to point out it was venomous. Neither one bothered to remind the other to watch for the female.  
  
She would be another, worse fight if there was a clutch.  
  
It only took three passes and a near miss with Zeren diving, rolling out of the way for them to get it on the ground. Were it not for the fact his ass was nearly wyvern food Lambert would’ve been impressed at the Viper’s smooth grace, Zeren rolling back to his feet, long knives ready and hissing back at the screaming draconid. 

Lambert hit it with a lucky Aard as it spat at them both, the creature tumbling, crashing into the ground. It’s lack of fear and extreme aggression worked in their favor as it scrambled forward, claws tearing up the earth as it bit at them.  
  
Zeren didn’t overexaggerate his speed, as he tore around the winged beast. Lambert dodged another clumsy chomp, before snatching a bomb single handed out of his bag.  
  
He was well practiced in this little trick, and the next time the Wyvern roared, Lambert pitched the bomb at its face, diving away. It exploded momentarily too late- missing the mouth, but the silver shards embedded themselves all down one side of the face.  
  
Zeren whooped, before diving in to slash at it from behind, his long legs and flexibility allowing him to avoid the tail. The next time it dove forward, too far to the left now that it was missing one eye, Lambert rolled forward beneath it, driving his long silver sword deep in the join between its neck and chest. He yanked it out, narrowly missing the gush of venom as he twisted away. The flailing of a wing knocked him off balance, as Zeren climbed up the back of the twisting beast, light footed. The beast screamed, high pitched and discordant as he dropped to his knees, driving the two knives deep in it’s back, severing the spine. It slumped, finally still and quiet, and they both watched carefully as the female called from the lip of the cave ledge.  
  
She was big. Even from this distance, she was big. She screamed, loud and long, the warbling cry echoing throughout the valley. It wasn’t until she took off that Zeren cursed.  
  
“Fuck is she-”  
  
“Holy fuck get off that _corpse_ she’s incoming!”  
  
They both bolted as the female came crashing down, too ungainly to land lightly. She screamed, circling her mate, spraying her venom wildly, sending both witchers scrambling farther back. They watched her distress ramp up as she circled the bloody, broken body.  
  
Zeren whistled across the field, and the wyvern’s attention snapped to him, hissing and crouching. As she climbed over the body of her mate he mimed throwing a bomb as he took off around her.  
  


He drew both long knives again, rolling his wrists and crouching, hissing at the enormous beast before him. Lambert took the barest moment that he’d never admit to to admire the feral baring of teeth, the bright eyes contrasted by the black around his eyes.  
  
One second. Then he took off, tearing around behind the beast to keep her centered as Lambert lit then flung one bomb, watching it arc and bounce badly off her wing. It exploded, driving the silver into her, tearing open the muscles so her left wing dragged along the ground. The concussion of it snapped her attention back towards Lambert, her rage overriding the pain she must be in.  
  
She climbed over her mate once again, ignored and unheeded as she hissed, tracking Lambert as he backed away. Zeren was unable to get her attention back on him by whistling or rocks thrown, so he took off, leaping off the smaller male’s body and hacking at her tail.  
  
“Fuck. Throw the other bomb!” Zeren yelled. She was swaying, her heavy belly rocking hard as she drove Lambert back.  
  
Lambert ignored his cry, the wyvern moving too fast. He blasted her with Igni, pouring all of his frustration and stress into it. The flame billowed up around her face, but even while she screamed in rage and pain, the heat boiling the skin around her face, she didn’t pause in her attack.  
  
Zeren finally managed to get close enough to climb up on her back, slipping in the blood from the damage to her wing. He drove one long knife deep into her flank to avoid falling underfoot but the big beast shook once hard, and he was caught by the wing and sent tumbling down, his other knife knocked free of his hand. The wind was knocked out of him but he threw up a hand to let Lambert know he was fine.  
  
Down a knife, which was incredibly aggravating. But he had more to do than be irritated at the inconvenience. The matching fang was perfunctorily cleaned on his trousers before he drew the sword from his back.  
  
This fight had gone on too long. The Wolf was slowing, one bomb left. After this they’d both have to go in close and that was when people got injured.  
  
Zeren had no fondness for injuries. He rubbed at his leg, pausing for a spare second to watch the smaller witcher’s frankly brilliant footwork. The wyvern had been hunting him across the entire field as he retreated backwards, but the smaller man hadn’t stumbled once, light on his feet and holding her off. Zeren took off, long legs eating up the ground between them.  
  
He ducked low as he ran, and could just see the bomb thrown, arcing through the air. With her focus solely on the wolf she ducked around the small projectile easily. The smooth slithering evasion left the bomb to explode nearly harmlessly near her tail. She roared again, her heavy belly dragging as she attempted to leap the distance to catch up.  
  
She was close- too close. And Lambert’s eyes were wide. He stretched out, eyeing the glint of the hilt of his knife still buried in the flank of the wyvern, and as he neared Lambert turned and took off to the left.  
  
It was a dangerous move, to turn his back to the beast. Zeren crushed down the unpleasant flash of memories that brought up, and leapt, snatching the hilt of the blade to haul himself up, pulling it out after him as he climbed.  
  
Removing the blade caused the beast to scream again, shaking violently. Zeren dropped down, nearly shaken off, but the beast was wider than her mate. He shoved the small blade down into her back, and she snapped her only good wing out, viciously turning around to snap at him.  
  
Unfortunately, it was the same moment that Lambert had taken advantage of her distraction to turn and run, before the wyvern had him cornered at the edge of the field. The big wing caught and flung him, tumbling to the ground as Zeren dug both fangs deep in the wyvern’s sides, pressed as flat as possible to avoid the teeth.  
  
“Let go!” Zeren’s eyes snapped up to see Lambert, slightly unsteady before him. His hair was utterly disheveled for being flung through the air, but his hands were steady and he snarled through the blood in his teeth.  
  
The wyvern hissed, the damage finally disabling her ability to spit venom. She swung around hard, trying to snap at Zeren. He just flattened himself down further, digging and twisting the fangs in close, hoping to knick a lung. 

  
Lambert waited until the wyvern had turned to face him again and held up hand, Aard ready.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Zeren pulled both fangs out, allowing himself to slide down and off the big beast, kicking away as he rolled out of striking range and Lambert roared as the sign threw the big beast back, before he bolted forward, driving his silver sword up into the big chest cavity. He was panting and bloody and the beast wavered, swaying, before the muscles suddenly slumped.  
  
Then the body started tilting forward.  
  
Zeren gritted his teeth, hitting the big beast again with Aard. It wasn’t as strong as the little wolf witcher’s, but it was enough to tip the body into falling away as he pulled his sword out of the chest and spun the other direction.  
  
It hit the ground with an impact that rocked them both, but even as Zeren climbed to his feet, panting, Lambert was walking around the fallen corpse to hack off it’s head. The limp was slight, but noticeable, and once the head was removed, Zeren followed to drag the other head back to the alderman.  
  


  
“We probably didn’t need both heads, but that was hilarious.” 

Lambert looked up from the bucket he was using to the dirt and viscera out of his hair. Loose and damp it hung down into his eyes, the bright gold peering up through the black.  
  
“What are you telling me for? It was your fucking idea to stack them.”  
  
They were both perched on small stools, over buckets of hot water. Zeren was far more comfortable with this arrangement, his long legs spread as he scrubbed the sweat and grime from his body. Lambert scowled at the Viper’s casual nudity. His blond hair was loose and curling in the damp air as they scrubbed. 

He was _not_ going to ask about that vicious scar on his leg. And he was very much _not_ going to think about how the claw marks on his shoulder mirrored the ones on his own face so similarly. Fucking Viper.  
  
Zeren was far less shy about admiring the Wolf before him. His eyes wandered, following the scars that tracked down his face, his prominent, proud nose. The spattering of scars down his back, even what looked like a bite that curved around his leg. Lambert’s darker skin was a stark contrast to his own pale skin, even as their eyes matched, glittering gold in the candlelight.  
  


Once they were both washed and their clothing scrubbed, Zeren tossed a small round potion to Lambert.  
  
“The fuck is this?”  
  
He frowned, as Lambert inspected the potion, sniffing it carefully. “How did you fuck up _Swallow_ ?”  
  
Zeren rolled his eyes, but waved a hand as he pulled up his trousers.  
  
“Don’t be a fucking snob. Take it, you’re still limping. You’re not going anywhere, may as well have a comfortable night instead of just waiting out the pain.”  
  
Lambert bared his teeth, stepping forward as Zeren just dragged his eyes up Lambert’s body slowly, deliberately. The wolf’s trousers were undone, he was still shirtless and damp, hair loose and wet. His mussed hair hanging in his face was an appealing look, but the implication of deception was more than Zeren was willing to tolerate from even such a pretty pup.  
  
He moved fast, and in seconds he had Lambert pressed against the small wall, taking full advantage of their height difference. He pressed one hand to Lambert’s chest, pushing him back up against the wall, and as tempting as it was to stare at his hand buried the dark curls of Lambert’s chest hair, he just shoved him back firmly. He stepped in closer as Lambert’s eyes stayed locked with his own. Challenging, but yet unresisting.  
  
He could nearly hear the growl as Lambert was forced to raise his chin to look up at Zeren, who tipped his head and let his curls all fall to one side.  
  
“If I wanted you dead I would’ve left that wyvern to crush you.”  
  
Lambert just narrowed his eyes, waiting, and watching, so Zeren just leaned down slowly, speaking softly near his ear.  
  
“I _know_ your Swallow is more powerful. That’s why I gave you _mine_ . You’re not hurt that badly, it’d be a waste. But I _am_ faster than you, and quite possibly stronger. Are you wanting a fight, pup?”  
  
“Fuck off.” Lambert ground out the words, shoving him back suddenly, and Zeren went easily, arms spread wide, a grin tilted on his face.  
  
“Fighting, fucking, or drinking. All good post-battle activities.” The mischief danced in his eyes as he bent smoothly and picked up Lambert’s freshly washed socks and threw one at Lambert, who caught it.  
  
“Food. You didn’t list _food._ And give me back my fucking sock, you jackass. They take ages to knit.”  
  
Zeren glanced at it, inspecting the tiny, neat stitches before tossing it over. _  
_ _  
_ “Simple pleasures, then. Food. Dry socks. Let’s see what room we’ve earned. You pick the wine, and you can show me that ah. Superior Swallow of yours.”  
  
Lambert pulled on his shirt, scoffing at the shit eating grin on Zeren’s face before gathering up the rest off his belongings. First food, wine, and then on to brewing. The night was shaping up to look like it’d be even more interesting than the day had been. 


End file.
